


How good you have it with me

by vivianblakesunrisebay



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Episode: s05e06 Rock On!, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-09 04:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20988584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivianblakesunrisebay/pseuds/vivianblakesunrisebay
Summary: Patrick's date with Ken, and the aftermath.





	1. Not date

Patrick was nervous. 

He was sitting at an Italian restaurant in Elmdale, waiting for a guy he had a date with. A ... sort of date. He didn’t know what else to call it.

_Go for dinner and run free,_ David had said.

David had looked so pleased and enthusiastic about sending him on this date with Ken, like he was giving Patrick a present. He _was_ giving him a present.

It’s just—it had all unfolded so_ fast._ When Ken had given him his phone number this morning, Patrick had been delighted; it was flattering to be hit on by anyone, of course, but Patrick had been particularly pleased to be hit on by a guy, to know that Ken had pegged him as gay; then David had gotten bent out of shape about it, and that made it even better. It had been fun needling David, and Alexis had joined in, and Patrick had been pretty pleased with how the day was going. He had tucked the phone number in his pocket and had been plotting ways to tease David about it again later, but then David had suddenly thrown this curve ball at him instead.

Patrick didn’t feel he had really had time to think this through. He liked to think things through. He liked to do research; he liked to prepare. He hadn’t even had time for his old standby, a pro and con list. 

Maybe he could start one now, while he was waiting.

PROS

One: Patrick was a gay man who’d only ever been with one guy. That guy was someone he wanted to settle down with, who he was pretty sure, after this morning, wanted to settle down with him too. Patrick thought again of David saying _five years down the line,_ and savored it. And it was just a fact that most people didn’t settle down with the only person they’d had sex with.

Also, when Patrick had had sex, before David, he had often felt a faint self-conscious weirdness, like he was watching himself from the outside, like a nature documentary:_ observe the humans in the wild; in an odd ritual, they press their mouths together to signal they are ready to mate._ Would he still feel that if it was another guy?

Two: it would add a mark to his side of the ledger, the sexual experience ledger. That was a petty reason, Patrick knew. But David had been with a lot of people, and even though when it came to the relationship side of things that had meant a lot of pain and heartbreak, Patrick knew that David had enjoyed a lot of the sex he’d had along the way. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to add one more solitary mark to the big empty space on Patrick’s side of the ledger.

Three: not only had he never had sex with another guy, he’d never had casual sex, with anyone, ever. When he was having sex with women, he’d never had a casual hookup or a one night stand. Why would he, when sex was the part of a relationship he liked the least? Then, when he had met David … well, basically, if you took the concept of “casual” and went as far as you could in the opposite direction—that was sex with David.

So those were Patrick’s two experiences with sex: life-altering, love-of-my-life sex on one hand, and tolerable, barely-better-than-a-sneeze sex on the other. There was a whole category of experience in between that Patrick had no knowledge of.

Four: it might be fun? Patrick probably should have listed this first, because that was supposed to be the point. That probably showed he wasn’t in the right headspace here. Patrick knew that for most of his life he hadn’t been so great at listening to his body; he had overruled what his body was telling him, which was _I don’t really want this,_ every time he’d had sex with Rachel, or the other handful of women he’d been with. In retrospect, his body had been whispering to him for years that he was gay, but Patrick hadn’t listened, until he met David—and then, his body had basically taken over and said _sorry Patrick, I’m in charge now, you’ve fucked things up long enough. _

Maybe tonight could be his way of making it up to his body, for forcing it to have sex with women for so long. This would be like going back in time and giving his body one of the early hookups and warm-up sexual experiences, that most people had when they were younger, but that Patrick hadn’t had.

CONS

One: he was nervous. But that wasn’t a real con. If it was the right thing to do, you did it. 

Two: it was very presumptuous to assume that Ken would even want to have sex with him.

Three: was it fair to go on a date when he wasn’t actually available? How did you handle that? What were the ethics of the situation? 

Patrick wished, once again, that he’d had time to do some research.

He imagined himself saying, when Ken got here, “Just so you know, I’m only here because my boyfriend has given me permission to have sex with you tonight. Of course, I’m not assuming you want to have sex with me, because that would be presumptuous. I just wanted you to know that this isn’t a real date and won’t be leading to future dates, but of course I’m not assuming that you want there to be future dates, because that would be presumptuous too. Anyway, want to split an appetizer?”

Ugh. 

Still, that made four pros and only three cons, and one of the cons didn’t count. And David thought this was a good idea, and he trusted David, especially with anything regarding sex. 

So, it was a … yes? He was doing this. Maybe.

Then he saw Ken approaching, and he had no more time to think about it. 

*

Ken was really chatty. Not in a bad way; he had interesting things to say, but he definitely talked a lot. Patrick didn’t mind. He listened, ate his pasta primavera and drank his beer. Ken was in a master’s program for teaching, and worked as a teaching assistant at Elmdale High School. Patrick heard about how Ken felt comfortable teaching every subject but math; he heard about the students in Ken’s class, and how often Ken had been mistaken for a student. He heard about Ken’s dog, who Ken had just adopted—“adopt, don’t shop!” he said, which was cute—a Shih Tzu mix whose name was Delia and who had suffered from separation anxiety when he first got her, but she was getting so much better now.

Ken suddenly broke off. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m talking way too much.”

“It’s fine,” Patrick said. “I’m interested.”

“I always talk too much when I’m nervous,” Ken said.

“Are you nervous?” Patrick said, smiling to try to say_ there’s no need._

“Yes, I’m always nervous on first dates. Aren’t you nervous? You don’t look it. You look all strong and silent.” He touched Patrick’s arm. Ken was smiling, his cute, bright smile, and now he was flirting. Patrick was starting to feel guilty. Ken thought this was a date, but it wasn’t a date.

Ken went on, “Tell me something about you. You said today you were co-owner of that store! It’s so cute.”

“Oh, I just handle the financial side of things. My business partner—“ Too late, Patrick realized the last thing he should do was bring up David. He tried to move on quickly. “He handles the design side. Tell me more about why you decided to become a teacher.”

Ken gave him a look like, _nice try, but we’re talking about you now._ “Is your business partner the guy who was at the register?”

Oh, God. “Um, yes.” 

“He’s handsome,” Ken said. “If you like that type.”

His tone was dismissive. Patrick bristled. “What type?” he said.

“The tall, dark, and handsome type. I don’t like tall guys, because I’m such a little shrimp. I’d be, like, running after him if we walked down the street together.” Ken laughed.

Oh, that was okay then. Patrick bit back a smile. _Tall, dark, and handsome._ David was going to love that.

_Stop thinking about David, Patrick._

“I drive through Schitt’s Creek all the time, on the way to see my sister,” Ken said. “And I noticed your store when it opened, but I haven’t had a chance to stop there until today,” Ken said. “You guys have singlehandedly improved the aesthetic of that town by about a thousand percent.”

“A thousand percent?” Patrick said.

Ken nodded solemnly. “That’s math, so you should get it.”

Patrick laughed, and Ken laughed too, his whole face lighting up.

*

When the check came Patrick picked it up. Ken didn't move. He said, "I was going to pretend to offer to pay half, but I'm a teaching assistant with tons of student loans, so ..."

“I’ve got it,” Patrick said.

Then Ken said, “You should come back to my apartment and meet Delia. I think she would like you.”

Patrick knew what that meant, and his stomach clenched, but he just said, “Don’t most dogs like everyone?”

“Yes, but I’m sure she’ll like you _especially._” Ken’s eyes were dancing, like he knew this was transparent, but he didn’t mind being transparent. He really was cute.

And now Patrick was starting to feel really bad about the ethics of the situation, which he again wished he had had time to Google. “Um, Ken, I need to tell you something.”

“What?” Ken looked apprehensive.

“It’s just—I have a boyfriend,” he said. “I mean, he knows I’m with you. I’m not—” _cheating._ He said, “I just thought I should tell you.”

Ken said, “Is it the guy at the store?”

“Yes,” Patrick said. “How did you know?”

Ken said. “You just got a weird look on your face when I mentioned him.”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said helplessly. This was so awkward.

Ken said, “He knows you’re here? So this is like an open relationship thing?”

“He know I’m here,” Patrick said. He didn’t like the words _open relationship._

Ken tilted his head. He said, “So, is a hookup still on the table?” 

*

Delia was adorable. When Patrick sat down on the couch, she jumped up in his lap, put her paws on his chest, and licked his face. Ken was in the kitchen pouring wine, and he said, “Delia, get down!”

Patrick said, “It’s okay,” as he pet her and scratched under her chin. Delia looked up at him blissfully.

Ken came over and handed Patrick a glass of wine. He said, in a mock-scolding tone, “I'm trying to train her not to jump up on people. Now you’ve just given her positive reinforcement.”

“Oh, sorry,” Patrick said.

Ken said, “Oh, well, it’s okay. I just don’t want to be one of those dog owners that lets his dog get away with annoying people.” He started petting Delia too, scooting over so he was right next to Patrick, their thighs touching. He touched Patrick’s hand as they both pet the dog.

Then Ken nudged Delia onto the floor. He turned to Patrick, took his wine and put it on the coffee table. “This is me putting the moves on you,” he said. 

The ethics of the situation seemed like they were taken care of. David knew he was here, Ken knew he had a boyfriend. There was no reason not to go ahead. Right?

Ken’s leaned in. His lips met his.

Patrick braced himself for that weird feeling, the nature-documentary feeling, but he didn’t feel it. So, that had been related to the fact that he was gay, and it was women he had been kissing. Good! That was good to know. Patrick relaxed a little.

The kiss was … nice. Not spectacular, but not bad. Medium. 

Patrick had actually done research and worked on his kissing technique, back in high school and college, in the hopes that if he had a better technique he would enjoy it more. So he considered himself a pretty good kisser, technique-wise. But probably everybody thought that about themselves. Patrick had read an article that 90 percent of people—some large percentage, anyway—thought they were above average drivers; when, by definition, of course, it was 50 percent. Patrick bet you would get similar answers if you asked people if they were above average kissers. He wondered if a survey like that had ever been done, and he made a mental note to check.

Well, this was bad. He was thinking about statistics rather than kissing. Focus, Patrick.

He remembered he should probably be touching Ken too, and he brought his hands to his shoulders. Ken’s shoulders were narrow and his bones felt fragile under Patrick’s palms. It was so different from touching David’s broad shoulders. 

_Stop thinking about David._

Ken deepened the kiss. It was still nice. Pleasant.

Ken moved down from Patrick’s mouth and kissed his neck. Oh, so they were doing this now. That made sense; this wasn’t like dating, where you could take things slow. If you were hooking up, it all had to happen at once, in one night. Ken nudged Patrick to lean back, and then he came up on the couch a little, putting one foot on the cushion, and Patrick noticed that Ken still had his shoes on. Oh, well, it was his couch; he could put his shoes on it if he wanted to. 

Ken was still kissing his neck, and was starting to run his hands down Patrick’s sides, around his chest. But that was fine. It felt fine. Nice, even.

Ken’s shoes were kind of ugly; Patrick wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen shoes like that. They were long and narrow, like the kind ultra-stylish people sometimes wore, but shoes like that usually ended with a sharp point; on these, the toe was very blunt and square. It was like someone was planning to make a pointy shoe but then they ran out of leather and just stopped. Patrick wondered if Ken had long narrow feet but thick toes, that would explain it; in which case Patrick should be glad they made shoes like this so people with feet like that could find something to wear. But fashion-wise they were definitely Incorrect—

Ken ran a hand down over Patrick’s hip, then around to the front of his jeans.

Oh. 

_Oh. _

Suddenly this was all very real; Patrick stopped thinking about statistics, or shoes. Ken was touching his dick, squeezing it through his jeans. His dick was not hard at all, and Patrick felt a flash of apology—_sorry, no offense, it’s not you, I was just thinking about your weird shoes_—followed quickly by the thought that if he concentrated, he could get in the right mindset. He just needed to focus. 

But then that was swamped by another thought, crystal clear, like every cell in his body was shouting out to him, at once:

_Why?_

It brought Patrick up short. 

Why _was_ he doing this?

Patrick thought of the pros on his pro and con list, and they all seemed ridiculous suddenly, some abstract checklist of What Other People Say You Should Do. David had sent him off to do this out of generosity, and that was lovely and wonderful, and everything David had said made sense; but at the end of the day it wasn’t _David’s_ dick that was being squeezed right now, it was Patrick’s.

Of all the things he had thought about earlier, there was only one right thing, and that was this: that he hadn’t listened to his body for most of his life, and that he should now. And right now his body was telling him one thing, loudly and clearly:

_Why am I wasting my time with this? Why am I wasting my time with “nice” and “pleasant” when I have someone at home who, right now, I could go and have mind-blowing sex with?_

He sat up, grabbed Ken’s hand, and pushed him away, gently.

He said, “I’m sorry, I really am, but I can’t do this.”


	2. Ground rules

It was 9:15. David was staring at his phone, willing it to life.

Patrick’s date had started at 7:00. How long did it take to eat dinner and trade a couple of orgasms? Dinner from seven to eight, orgasms from eight to nine—and that was being generous, orgasms didn’t really take that long—then it was time to go. But Patrick would have texted him when the date was over, right? He’d assumed that Patrick would text him.

Another fucking _ground rule_ he should have set.

This is what he got for being _mature_. 

David had been so proud of himself; he’d actually been feeling a little smug that his wreck of a past was actually good for something, that because of it David wasn’t the jealous type; he understood that sex wasn’t love, and he was happy for Patrick to have sex with someone else as long as he came home to him, David, afterwards.

It also hadn’t hurt to imagine Patrick being grateful and feeling like David was the best boyfriend he could ever have, and they could just get this _experience other people_ thing out of the way and go on to … well, whatever came next.

So he’d been lying here on his bed at the motel, scrolling through Instagram, feeling smug and congratulating himself for a job well done, and then fucking Alexis had come in with her fucking questions about _ground rules_ and making him worried out of his mind.

“So what exactly _did_ you tell him?” Alexis said, breaking the silence.

David thought back, but all he could remember was how gleeful he had felt at his idea, how confident it was the right thing.

“I said he should call Ken,” he said finally, “and go to dinner and run free.”

Alexis looked horrified. “Run free?”

“But he knew what I meant,” David insisted, even though he was no longer sure of that; he was no longer sure of anything.

He was used to Alexis winding him up about something or other, but that’s not what she was doing now. She was actually concerned for him, and that meant that he really had fucked up, because Alexis should know. She had always been much better at protecting herself in relationships than he was, so even though she’d dated almost as many assholes as he had, she was a lot less scarred by the experience. The only person who had been able to hurt Alexis was Ted, which was ironic because he was far and away the nicest person she’d ever dated.

“You should text him,” Alexis said. “Maybe it’s not too late.”

“Text him what?”

“Whatever you’re assuming he knows when you just told him to ‘run free.’” Alexis made air quotes around _run free_ and sounded extra sarcastic, like it was the stupidest thing he’d ever said. Which he was starting to think it was. “Like, is it okay for Patrick to sleep over?”

“No, but why would he want to?” Why would you want to smell someone’s morning breath and see their bed head when it was just a hookup? But David knew that people did that all the time.

Patrick was really cute and sweet in the morning. He always got up and made coffee for David, even though he only drank tea himself. Was he going to make coffee for Ken?

“How about him bringing Ken back to his apartment?”

“He wouldn’t do that,” David said.

Alexis gave him a look.

He said, “It’s not convenient anyway! They’re meeting for dinner in Elmdale.”

“What if Ken has roommates, and he doesn’t have a choice?”

“Stop, okay? I get your point!”

“So text him!” Alexis said.

He looked at his phone. “I can’t. It would make me look clingy and insecure.”

“But isn’t clingy and insecure, like, your brand?” Alexis said, with a little smile, fingers combing through her hair. She sounded more like her usual teasing.

David gave her what he hoped was a withering look.

She said, “Patrick is pretty tolerant, you know. He’d probably just roll with it.”

Tolerant. Yes, Patrick was tolerant. He tolerated a lot of bullshit from David; in fact, he actually seemed to _like_ a lot of David’s bullshit, which still amazed David every day. Tonight, David had been trying to pay a little of that back, and texting him a bunch of ground rules after the fact was not the way to do that.

“I can’t,” he said finally. 

“O-kay,” Alexis said in a it’s-your-funeral voice. She picked up her phone. She was probably texting Ted, Ted who she was supposed to be having dinner with tonight. But she was hanging out with David instead, because he was an idiot who had just sent his boyfriend off to fall in love with someone else. 

David ran his hands over his face, over his eyes, and then opened them and looked at his phone again. A text hadn’t come through in the millisecond his eyes were closed.

Maybe, instead of texting him when the date was over, Patrick would just drive straight here instead. It was a forty minute drive from Elmdale, which meant that if the date ended at nine, he could get here as early as 9:40. That was only twenty minutes from now. David could survive twenty minutes. He pictured Patrick in his car, driving to see him, driving to David. That was a nice thought.

“Distract me for twenty minutes,” he said to Alexis, so she started telling him some of Josh Groban’s ground rules, which apparently included no weekend dates, no walks in public parks, and no restaurants with fountains in them.

“Oh, and no hair feathers,” Alexis said.

“What?”

Alexis flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Apparently Josh thinks they’re just way too sexy on me and he didn’t want me wearing them on a date with someone else.”

“Oh my God,” David said. He didn’t know if it was better or worse having Alexis here.

*

At 9:40, Patrick didn’t come. David got up and looked out the window at the dark parking lot.

David knew it was ridiculous to be upset, that 9:40 was a time he had just made up in his head, that it actually meant nothing. But he couldn’t stop the feeling that this meant something bad.

He went back to his original thought, that Patrick would text him as soon as the date was over. So Patrick was probably still with Ken. What were they _doing?_

That was an unfortunate thought, because that was another ground rule he hadn’t set: what sex acts were on the table.

Like, Patrick wouldn’t do anything involving anal, would he?

Could he text him that right now? _No anal._

But if Patrick had already done it, David didn’t want to make him feel bad about it. Patrick would be safe and use a condom, and David would live with it, because he hadn’t told Patrick not to; he hadn’t set any ground rules.

A couple of hand jobs, that would be best. Hand jobs were kind of like masturbating. But, now that he thought about it, he didn’t like the idea of a hand job either. The trouble was that thinking about any sex act automatically came with a mental picture, a picture of what Patrick looked like and sounded like when he did it with David, and the idea of someone else being able to see and hear Patrick like that was unbearable. 

Like, was Patrick looking at Ken right now with _that_ look? David loved it so much, the focused look Patrick had when they were having sex, like they were alone in the universe, like Patrick _wanted_ to be alone in the universe with him; all his passion and energy and intensity all focused on David, like a laser beam, like David was just … _it_ for Patrick, like no one else would do. 

Like David was special. Unique. Loved.

David suddenly couldn’t stand up anymore. He went and sat down across from Alexis, collapsing into the chair. He put down his phone, lining it up precisely in front of him so he could see it immediately if a text came through.

“Patrick’s never been with another guy,” David said. “You knew that, right?”

“I spend as little time as possible thinking about your sex life, David, but yes, that makes sense.”

“That’s why I did this,” David said, and Alexis made a little face, halfway between sympathy for his obvious distress and revulsion at having to comfort him about his sex life. Which was fine; David would have felt the same way if their positions were reversed.

The thought had been nagging at him, for the past few months, that it wasn’t fair to Patrick to expect from him any long term … whatever, when he’d never gotten to experience another guy. If they kept going, if they stayed together, then surely that would inevitably blow up in David’s face.

But, this wasn’t just about David. Patrick was a gay man who’d spent all of his teens and twenties not knowing he was gay, and he’d only ever been with David, and that didn’t seem right. David wanted Patrick to have everything that was good, to have a full and complete life. He wanted Patrick to be happy_ for his own sake,_ not just happy with David, and David had never felt this way before about anyone.

But, fuck, wasn’t that kind of generosity supposed to be rewarded? Wasn’t this like a “if you love somebody set them free” situation that was always, always rewarded in the movies? Leave it to David to do something unselfish for once in his life and have it blow up in his fucking face.

*

It was 11:00. He was back to pacing.

He kept coming back to the idea that _at some point_ they would have had to deal with this, right? If it wasn’t now, it would be a year from now, two years from now, five years from now. Earlier today, he had thought,_ let’s get this over with now._ But, maybe, if he had waited, he would have had time to fix all his character flaws, and be such a good boyfriend, and Patrick would be so happy with him that he would never—

Who was he kidding.

He looked over at Alexis. She was on the phone with Ted, telling him she wasn’t going to meet him yet because she was still with him, David. Which he knew he should be grateful for, but right now he just kind of hated her for having a sweet boyfriend she could talk to on the phone, just like David had had_ earlier today_ until he’d fucked it all up.

Alexis hung up, and he said, “This isn’t the way I wanted to spend my night.”

“Me neither,” Alexis said.

“The more I think about this,” David said, “It was way too early to have introduced this into the relationship. I thought I was being mature, but it was just a classic case of self sabotage.”

Alexis motioned for him to sit down across from her, and David did, still clutching his phone so he could feel it if it buzzed. She tried to make him feel better by giving him credit for what he was trying to do, but she kind of just made him feel worse, and she wound up by saying: “If a cute guy walking into your store is enough to unravel your whole relationship, you’re better off finding that out now, than in a year from now.”

Alexis was probably right. It sounded like one of those dreary truths that grown-up people were supposed to face.

There was a knock at the door. He and Alexis looked at each other. 

David went to answer it.

It was Patrick. The sight of him made David almost sick with relief.

Patrick’s eyes were very big and full of … something. Apology? David’s heart clutched up in his chest.

“Do I want to hear about it?” he said.

“I couldn’t do it,” Patrick said, and David’s heart started beating again furiously, double-time, the blood thundering in his ears. 

Patrick couldn’t do it, and he was _here. _He was here he was here he was here, and everything was going to be fine. David stepped back and Patrick came in, and Patrick was thanking David for what he had done for him, and it was true, David was the best, he had done the good thing, the good boyfriend thing, and Patrick didn’t have to know that David had been freaking out. If David kept his mouth shut, he was going to get all the good things, the knowledge that Patrick only wanted him, and all the credit for being a mature and generous boyfriend, and Patrick. He was going to get Patrick. Patrick was here. 

Patrick kissed him, and David kissed him back and he wanted to kiss him forever; but then Patrick broke away, and that wasn’t good, but it was just because he wanted to say something critical about Ken and his shoes and that was okay. He could criticize Ken’s shoes all he wanted.

_He couldn’t do it he couldn’t do it he couldn’t do it _ was repeating David’s head. Patrick didn’t want anyone but him, even for one night. David hugged that knowledge to himself, and he hugged Patrick, and he never wanted to let go.

*

“Do you want to tell me about it?” David murmured, trying to sound very mature and reasonable, like someone who had just spent a nice quiet evening with his sister, not worrying at all.

They were in Patrick’s apartment, on the couch, David with his head on Patrick's shoulder. He felt he couldn’t be close enough.

Patrick kissed the top of David’s head. “Yeah, I do. I … realized something tonight.”

Patrick started telling about the date, about the fact that Ken was a teaching assistant at Elmdale High School and blah blah blah, and David thought Patrick could skip all these details and get to the part where _he couldn’t do it._

Then Patrick said that he had explained to Ken that he had a boyfriend, because he had felt guilty that Ken had obviously thought it was a real date. Ok, that was sweet, and props to Patrick for being aboveboard and ethical and all that, but if the reason Patrick didn’t have sex with Ken was because of some bullshit about not leading Ken on or whatever, it was not as great of a story. 

But no, Ken still wanted to hook up, because of course he did, and Patrick started describing how they went back to Ken’s apartment and Patrick met Ken’s dog and David was starting to get impatient, like wrap this story up already, who the fuck cared about his fucking dog; and then Patrick said, “And then we were on the couch, and he was kissing me and touching me, and I—”

David suddenly snapped to attention. “Wait, touching?” 

“Yes, and that’s when I realized—”

“Touching you where?” David sat up.

Patrick gave him an incredulous look, and David said, “Above the waist?”

Patrick didn’t say anything, and David was appalled. “I thought you said nothing happened!”

“Nothing did happen,” Patrick said, “That’s what I’m trying—”

“He had his skinny little fingers wrapped around your penis, and you’re calling that _nothing_?”

“It wasn’t _wrapped around_—this was all, it was all over the clothes.”

“Oh, and that makes it okay?” David snapped.

Patrick looked exasperated. “David, can I remind you that you sent me off to_ have sex_ with him tonight? Which, by the way, I did not do?”

There was a silence.

“I know,” David said sulkily. So much for getting credit for being mature. 

Patrick reached for him, but David shied away. He was extremely annoyed with himself. Why could he never keep his fucking mouth shut? He’d wanted to let Patrick keep on thinking he was generous and mature and a good boyfriend, instead of all high maintenance and needy like he usually was, and now he’d ruined it.

“David, what is it?” 

David didn’t say anything. He looked down at his hands in his lap.

Patrick put his hand over David’s, and this time he didn’t pull away. David said reluctantly, without looking up, “I might have been—freaking out. A little. Tonight.”

“You were?”

He looked up then. “You were gone for _hours!_ You didn’t even text me.”

“Were you jealous?” Patrick started smiling. He seemed to be trying to suppress it, but he couldn’t. He just kept smiling bigger and bigger. David was annoyed.

“Why not?” he snapped. “You were jealous of Ted last week and that was just a stupid game of spin the bottle.”

“I know, I know.” Patrick seemed to be making an effort to stop smiling. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just surprised. You seemed so sure earlier that this was a good idea.”

“I started thinking about how you might …” David trailed off.

“I might what? Run off with Ken?” Patrick said, his lips turning up again.

David looked down. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“What? Really?” Patrick was looking at him incredulously. “David, are you joking?”

David liked how incredulous Patrick sounded. He relaxed a little. “Well, it occurred to me that if you had sex with a guy, another guy, and you—you liked it, you might realize that what we have isn’t—”

“Isn’t what?” 

“Isn’t as special as you thought,” David mumbled. He could feel the tears threatening. He sniffed, trying to hold them back.

“Special? You thought I would find out what we have isn’t special?” Patrick sounded like he thought that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard, which was good. David didn’t mind being thought stupid, in this particular case.

“Maybe,” he said.

“David, listen—you told me that if I went on this date tonight, I would find out how good I have it with you. And that’s exactly what happened.”

“Really?” David said, sniffling. 

“Yes, that’s what I was trying to tell you earlier. As soon as he touched me, I thought, this is boring, I don’t want this. I don’t care that you’re the only guy I’ve ever been with. I don’t want to be with anyone else just for the sake of saying I’ve done it. I spent too many years having sex I didn’t want. And now I have you.” Patrick took David’s face in his hands. His eyes were so warm and tender, David wanted to drown in them. “David, I want _you_—I love you and I love having sex with you and I don’t want anyone else.”

That was it. David couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. 

“Hey, hey,” Patrick said, and pulled him into his arms. David buried his head in Patrick’s shoulder.

After awhile he said, his voice muffled, “I bet Ken didn’t cry on your shoulder tonight.”

Patrick said, “He didn’t, and that was a big strike against him. Crying is such a turn on for me.”

“Very funny,” David said, pulling back and dabbing at his eyes. “Puffy eyes aren’t sexy.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Patrick was smiling at him.

The look in his eyes was so warm that David had to kiss him. He was going for just a sweet, gentle kiss, but as soon as their mouths touched David let the kiss linger a little, and then Patrick grabbed his face and turned it into something else, his tongue sweeping into his mouth. David felt the need rise up hot inside him, and he kissed Patrick back, wrapping his arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said breathlessly, breaking away. “Is this okay—don’t feel like you have to—”

“Oh, I want to,” David said, and dragged Patrick towards him to kiss him again, another long, filthy kiss, his hands in his hair.

Patrick got his hands under David’s sweater and t-shirt and pulled them off, while David unbuttoned a few buttons on Patrick’s shirt, enough to get his hands in, and flicked his fingernails over Patrick’s nipples, until he was arching up underneath him. Everything in David’s body was suddenly screaming_ now now now._

David knew just what he wanted. He pulled away. “Stay here,” he said, and went to the bedside table, where he got the container of lube. 

He came back and quickly shucked off his jeans and underwear. He got on top of Patrick, straddling him. Patrick wrapped his arms around him and tilted his face up to kiss him.

David reached down and unbuckled Patrick’s belt and got his jeans undone, freeing his erection. He pulled his underwear down and ran his fingers along the thick, hard length of him.

Patrick pulled David’s head down for a kiss, then reached between them to wrap his fingers around David’s cock. He gave it a few rough strokes, running his thumb over the tip, his eyes hot on David’s face.

“David,” he whispered, “I want you so much.”

David shoved the lube against Patrick’s chest. “You do it,” he whispered. “I want to ride you.”

Patrick’s eyes went dark. David lifted up as Patrick got some lube on his hand; then David felt Patrick’s fingers slipping inside him, getting him ready, and then he was pulling him down, his arm strong around David’s waist, and David came down, down on Patrick’s cock until he could feel the rough fabric of Patrick’s jeans against his ass. 

David started to move, up and down, building up a rhythm. 

“Yes,” Patrick said. “God, David,_ yes._”

Patrick’s hands were strong on his hips, his eyes hooded and dark, focused on David, as David moved with increasing speed. 

Patrick took his hand from David’s hip and wrapped it around his cock, and the pressure of Patrick’s cock from the inside, and Patrick’s hand stroking him from the outside, spiraled up inside him, and David felt that exquisite pressure building and building; he knew he was getting close.

He leaned back to look at Patrick, and he was so sexy with his shirt halfway unbuttoned, the pale, smooth skin of his neck and chest exposed, his face flushed, covered with a sheen of sweat, his lips parted. David wanted to eat him alive. 

David shuddered as he felt himself starting to come; he leaned forward and put his mouth on Patrick’s neck, right where his neck met his shoulder, and bit down, and Patrick cried out, his hands digging into David’s hips as he came too, shuddering and saying David’s name.

*

Later, they were lying together in Patrick’s bed.

“Patrick,” David said.

“Yes?” Patrick murmured. He was running his hand lightly, caressingly, up and down David’s arm. He scooted closer and kissed him on the neck, below his ear, his lips lingering there.

David tried to focus, because this was important. “If you ever change your mind,” he said, “Don’t feel like—don’t feel like because I freaked out tonight, that you can’t decide you want to try again someday.”

“Okay,” Patrick said, and turned David’s face toward him so he could kiss him on the mouth.

Patrick didn’t seem like he was really paying attention. “I’m serious,” David said. “Promise me.”

Patrick stopped kissing him and looked at David’s expression. He nodded and said, “Okay, David, I promise.” 

“Good,” David said, relaxing.

Patrick kissed him again, a long, slow, languid kiss, until David forgot what they were talking about.

Then Patrick pulled back again. “What about you?” he said.

“What about me?” David said. He wanted Patrick to go back to kissing him. 

But Patrick was looking kind of serious suddenly. “Do you want … I feel like I should offer to, to—return the favor. I’ll be honest, I don’t know if I’m ready now, but if you give me some time—”

“No! God, no,” David said. “No. This is for you, so you can see—what’s out there.”

“And you don’t want to see what’s out there?”

“No, I already know what’s out there, and it all sucks.”

Patrick laughed a little and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly against him. David put his head against his chest, inhaling the smell of him, listening to the steady thumping of Patrick’s heartbeat.

Then Patrick pulled back and said, “Are you sure? Because Ken told me tonight he thought you were tall, dark, and handsome.”

“Really? He said that?”_ Tall, dark, and handsome._ “That’s very nice.” He tried not to smile.

Patrick was looking at him with a little half smile. “You like that?”

David tried to sound modest. “Well, it’s always nice to get a compliment. Did he say anything else?”

“No, but I might still have Ken’s number. Maybe you’d like to call him, see what else he thinks about you.” Patrick was keeping his face serious, but his eyes were shining like they did when he thought David was being ridiculous.

“Maybe I should,” David said, annoyed. Patrick had_ just said _that he couldn’t stand the thought of sharing David, and now he was trolling him like this.

“What happened to ‘I know what’s out there and it all sucks’?”

“Well, just because everyone else sucks doesn’t mean _you_ couldn’t stand to work on a few things.”

“Really? What could I stand to work on?” Patrick leaned in and kissed David’s neck again, which was very distracting.

“Well, it wouldn’t kill you to give me a compliment once in a while.”

Patrick sat up, propping himself on one elbow. “David, do you remember the speech I gave you, about an hour ago, about how much I love you and want you? Does that ring a bell?”

“Oh,” David said. That was true. “I meant, compliments about … my appearance.”

Patrick’s lips twitched. “Oh, I see. Nice to see what your priorities are.”

“But your speech was very good too,” David assured him.

“Oh, was it? I’m so glad.” Patrick kissed him on the lips, then along his jawline, and then went back to the spot below his ear. “Besides, I did give you a compliment about your appearance tonight.”

David had closed his eyes when all the kissing was happening, but he opened them again. “When?”

“I said that your puffy eyes were sexy.”

“Ugh!” David’s hands flew to his eyes. He rolled over, away from Patrick, who was a horrible, horrible person.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said, but David could hear he was laughing. “Your eyes aren’t puffy.”

“Yes, they are,” David said.

Patrick kissed the back of David’s neck. “But I think you’re sexy,” he said coaxingly. “I think you’re sexy, all the time, just you.”

David thought about that and decided to forgive him. He turned back over and let Patrick kiss him again.

“So, I hate to change the subject from how sexy you are,” Patrick said. “But what do you think about dogs?” 

“Are you still thinking about Ken’s stupid dog?”

“She was really cute, David.” Patrick kissed him gently on the mouth.

“Aren’t you allergic?”

“No, only cats.” Patrick kissed him again.

“So are you thinking of getting a dog? Is that what this is about?”

“Well, not now. This place doesn’t allow pets. But—later.”

“Later?” David said. “Later when?”

“Just later,” Patrick said, the corners of his mouth turning up.

David started to smile back, and he looked away and bit down on his lips to try to suppress it. _When we move in together,_ Patrick meant. David could picture it: a nice apartment with high ceilings and tall windows; lots of closet space, a cute little well-behaved dog. It was perfect; it was so perfect he couldn’t stand it.

David ran a hand up and down Patrick’s arm. “I can’t believe you’re telling me about your hookup’s dog,” he said.

“Hey, be jealous of my hookup all you want, but don’t hold it against the dog.”

_I wasn’t jealous,_ David wanted to say, but that was a lie, and Patrick knew it. “You didn’t hook up with him,” he said instead. 

“That's right,” Patrick said. "I didn't."

David wanted to tell Patrick how much he meant to him; how happy he was that he was here, that they were together, that Patrick loved him, how lucky he knew he was—but his heart felt too full. He couldn’t think of how to convey what he felt.

He said instead, “I suppose a dog … wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“Good,” Patrick said. “That’s what I was thinking.” 

David looked at him. Patrick was smiling at him, his eyes shining.

David didn’t have to say the words; Patrick knew.


End file.
